"Am I to become profligate as if I were a blonde?"

Well. That is the last time I share my idea for a blog post with another blogger before I write it. This is a sign, I'm sure: I have a blog now, and as I wrote a few posts back I have not been all that vigilant about caring for it, and if I do not shape up it will probably die of exposure. TLV has it right, I was offered an assistantship at Gainesville and seriously considered it for a week or so until I spoke to William Logan on the telephone. Whatever I might have thought of his poetry or criticism or teaching ability prior to that conversation became more or less immaterial afterward; the highlights included his excessive merriment over my GRE scores and shameless slandering of Derek Walcott. Reading his review of the new selected Frank O'Hara, written with all the taste and class of a disappointed and moderately talented Modernist, offered ample reassurance that I made the right move turning UF down.

So yes, it was delightful to see Frank O'Hara get a shout-out on the return of my favorite fictional advertising agency, though it's possible that I might have gotten a little too wasted beforehand to really take everything in. Whatever, though, it's more inappropriate not to watch "Mad Men" with a cocktail in hand, and as last Sunday marked the end of my first week at my new job a face-melting fizzy trifecta of Pimm's, Cointreau and dry ginger beer was just the thing.

Speaking of my new job, the first thing I'd like to address about my old one is that management types at Urban Outfitters are filthy, filthy liars. Do not work there. They will promise you 40 hours a week and give you 13. They will make you bring a doctor's note if you call in sick. Your co-workers will have names like 'Jazz' and 'Gigi' and they'll send you to nonexistent corners of the store to find fictional dresses and sweater sets. They will put you "on call" for closing shifts and make you spend half an hour off the clock dragging trash outside at 2 a.m. Do not work at Urban Outfitters if you can possibly avoid it. It would have been nice to use my discount once, though.

Now I work here, and my office has a view of the Empire State Building and it is indeed within walking distance of Madison Avenue, making my continued love affair with Sterling Cooper & co. all the more apt and enriching. The dress code is pretty casual, but I have to confess to a growing interest in up-dos and pencil skirts, even though no one drinks rye or smokes Luckies in the conference room. True, I may have called that prematurely. We'll see what week three has in store.